Caryl writes: Roses and Garlic and the Circle of Life

Fall is definitely here. The flowers stayed longer than usual this year but now only a single rose remains in my garden. All the leaves have been raked to the curb, giant piles inviting someone to jump in. I can still remember 2o-plus years ago when my younger then baby daughter buried yourself in a piles of brilliantly-covered leaves. There is something melancholy about this time of year–even though it punctuated with a trio of festive holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. But the days are shorter, the light gloomier, the soul seemingly heavier. I mourn the lone last rose I have brought indoors. But then two nights ago over a cup of lemon balm tea, my gardener gave me a present of a garlic bulb. I am planting it today so come spring it will show its clove-filled head. It makes me happier to put something new in the cold soil of my dormant garden and it reminds me that we need fallow periods because they precede fertile ones, that little babies become bright young women, that our older selves have new founts of knowledge and that every seasons continues to turn, turn, turn . . .